


heartache pales in comparison to love

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Flashbacks, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, PTSD, Timeskips, a gift for violet!!, also logan stims because I SAID SO, and all his boyfriends and may help him through it, based on the "dear wormwood" album by the oh hellos, complicated feelings towards abusers, confronting an abusive relationship, he's growing and changing and we love him, past abusive relationships, past issues with consent, roman deals with the trauma that is his relationship with durant, set in the "love and other fairytales" verse, unsympathetic Deceit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: roman thinks that dee's death will be the end of it. he thinks that he'll be able to live out his happily ever after with his boyfriends and forget that dee ever happened.he is wrong. but he is not alone, either.(OR: a character study of LAOFT's roman, inspired by the oh hellos' "dear wormwood" album)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Original Female Characters, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, past abusive prinxceit, romantic LAMP - Relationship
Comments: 66
Kudos: 132
Collections: Everything LAOFT





	1. prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoDoRoses (FairyChess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Broken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374888) by [SoDoRoses (FairyChess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses). 



> the oh hellos are my absolute favorite band and i love them so much. when i found out that their second album "dear wormwood" was meant to be a representation of people growing past an abusive relationship, i immediately thought of roman from violet's WONDERFUL "love and other fairytales" universe! i love violet and laoft's roman so much 
> 
> each chapter title is a song from the "dear wormwood" album, and there are fitting lyrics from every song at the beginning of every chapter (except for the instrumental ones). i highly recommend that you listen to the album as you read the fic! it's on spotify and youtube!

Roman thought that Dee’s death would be the end of it. 

Night-Roman was bound to Dee, to fulfill the bargain that Day-Roman ( _stupidly, foolishly, why didn’t he think this through why why_ why -) made to try and help Logan. ( _Fat lot of good that did me_ , Roman thinks dryly.) Once Dee died, Night-Roman died with him, and Day-Roman, _real_ Roman, would finally be free. Virgil was out of the casket, Patton was learning to control his voice, Logan was no longer a weak Winter but a fledging Spring. 

That should have been the end of it, and yet.

Thomas wakes up, in the Wickhills hospital, and Logan lets himself cry as he hugs his brother. Roman stands in the hallway, watching him cling to Thomas and whisper “Bug, Bug, _Bug_ ,” into his hair over and over again, and he smiles. 

“What a perfect happy ending.” 

Roman’s entire body stiffens. “What are you doing here.” 

“So beautiful,” Dee continues, waving a hand around just outside of Roman’s field of vision. “Look at all of your new _boyfriends_. And - oh, look at that! Two of them are even fae! I see you haven’t lost your good taste - ooh, you’re dating my _brother_ , I take that back -”

“What do you want with me?” Roman says. He means to shout it, to slam Dee against the wall and pin him by the throat, to _demand_ his purpose from him. It comes out more like a shaking whisper. He sounds pathetic, even to him, and judging by Dee’s scoff the feeling is mutual. 

“You bound yourself to me, Roman. Seven years, remember? Did you honestly think death was going to keep you from fulfilling your debt?” 

“You’re not real,” Roman says. “You’re dead. Even the Gentry can’t come back from the dead.” 

“Do you know that?”

“I’m a witch,” Roman snaps. “I know about the Fair Folk. You’re nothing more than a figment of my own mind, coming back to torment me.” 

“Oh, Roman.” Dee reaches forward and cups Roman’s cheek. When he did it in life, it felt warm and possessive, like he would claw Roman’s face off if Roman so much as breathed wrong. Now, it feels like nothing at all, because _Dee isn’t actually there_ , but Roman still shudders and jumps backward. 

“You were mine,” Dee says softly. “Weren’t we happy together? You always did whatever I asked of you, Roman, you were so _good_. Didn’t it make you happy?” 

“No,” Roman says, thickly. He doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth. Dee’s face darkens in anger before he smiles sweetly. 

“You know better than to lie to one of the Fair Folk,” he croons. “Especially to me, Roman.” 

“Roman?” 

Dee evaporates into the air, and when Roman turns, he sees Patton looking at him. 

“Honey, you were talking to yourself,” he says gently. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” 

Roman smiles, practiced and easy. “I’m alright.” 

Patton smiles, sadly. “I don’t think that’s true, Ro, but - but I don’t want to push you. Just . . .” He frowns, waving his hand around as he tries to find a way to ask Roman a question without commanding him something. “I . . . I hope that you come and talk to us when you need something, Roman. I want you to know that you can confide in us.” 

He touches Roman’s face, and Roman smiles - real this time, no practiced falseness about it. 

“I know, Pat. I just . . .” He sighs. “There’s a minefield up here.” He taps his temple. “What if I trip you all up?” 

“We’ll just have to help you navigate it together,” Patton says. He leans in and kisses Roman’s forehead - soft and tender, and Roman lets him. 


	2. bitter water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i still taste you on my lips, lovely bitter water / the terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue / and i know i shouldn’t love you / i know i shouldn’t love you, but i do.” - bitter water, the oh hellos

Roman likes kissing. 

That isn’t entirely correct; Roman _loves_ kissing. He loves all forms of it - gentle kisses brushed reverently to hands and knuckles, chaste kisses pressed to cheeks and noses and foreheads, sweet kisses pressed to lips, hot and heavy kisses that escalate into something more. He thinks that kissing is one of the purest ways to show love. 

Roman is also _very_ into tactile displays of affection.

He and Logan are curled together on the Sanders’ couch. Dot is in the kitchen, quietly humming to herself as she makes whatever the Sanders are having for dinner. Logan is quietly sipping a mug of lavender tea, tucked almost completely into Roman’s side. Roman has one arm slung around Logan’s shoulders, gently nuzzling into his hair. 

“Roman,” Logan says softly. 

“Hmmm?” Roman isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s been falling asleep, slowly but surely; Logan is warm and soft, eyes roaming the pages of whatever he’s reading, and he smells like lavender in addition to all the other lovely floral scents that generally emanate from Logan. 

“Roman,” Logan repeats, and Roman lifts his head out of Logan’s hair. “Roman, I have a question for you.” 

“Yes, my flower?” Logan’s entire face rapidly blooms from pale to pink to red to scarlet. “What, do you like that nickname?” Logan makes a sharp, flustered fae noise and shoves his face into Roman’s neck. Plants are slowly sprouting from the wooden floor, creeping towards their feet and ankles. 

“What are you doing in there?” Dot calls. 

“Embarrassing your son,” Roman teases. 

“Carry on.” 

“ _Mother!_ ” Logan yelps. 

“You had a question,” Roman sing-songs, leaning down to nuzzle Logan’s forehead. 

“No,” Logan says primly. “Boyfriends who embarrass me in front of my mother don’t get to know what I wanted to ask.” 

“Pleeeeaaaase?” Roman croons. Logan grumbles at him before carefully bookmarking his page and setting it on the coffee table, along with his tea. 

“I was _hoping_ ,” he mutters, “that you might kiss me. Nothing too intense, given that my mother is in the other room, but -”

Roman grins, and Logan somehow flushes even darker. The flowers tickle up Roman’s legs. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to ask me to kiss you.” He leans down and cups Logan’s face gently. “But, of course, I will.” 

Logan presses their mouths together, simple and chaste, and Roman smiles into it. He carefully nuzzles their noses together and smooths his thumbs over Logan’s cheeks. Logan leans forward, shifting so that he is sitting across Roman’s lap, and Roman hums happily. He slides one hand down to brace around Logan’s shoulders and upper back, just to make sure that he’s secure, and Logan leans forward. 

Logan tastes like the essence of spring itself. He tastes like jasmine and sunshine and spring rain and _growth_. He tastes like new life. Logan sighs into the kiss, and Roman smiles, and then Logan gently grazes his teeth over Roman’s bottom lip and hesitantly pokes his tongue into Roman’s mouth. 

All at once, Logan is gone. Roman’s mouth fills with a terrible taste - sour and bitter and _wrong_ , but still addictive, somehow, and the hands looped gently around his neck become sharp and possessive, gripping and scratching and _owning_ -

All at once, Logan is gone. There’s no mouth on Roman’s, no hands on him, no weight on his lap. Roman blinks, and Logan is sitting next to him. One hand is held out, palm up, offering but not demanding. “Are you alright?” Logan asks, gentle and soft. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman chokes, and Logan is shaking his head before he’s even finished his sentence. 

“Do not apologize,” Logan says. “It is not your fault.” Roman looks at Logan’s hand and carefully, slowly takes it. Logan doesn’t squeeze his hand, merely folds his fingers loosely around Roman’s to make sure that Roman can pull away if he needs to. 

“I - I was having fun,” Roman says. “I like you, I like _kissing_ you - but I - I just - I don’t know what happened, one minute I was here with you and then the next I was back with _him_ -” 

Logan’s lip curls up in a snarl, and Roman winces. “No, dear, I - I am not upset with you. I am upset because you were horrendously mistreated, and I wish that I could remove that pain.” 

Roman laughs, hollowly. “It was more than that, though, L. I - I -”

He doesn’t even know how to begin untangling the tangled, knotted web that is _how he feels about Dee_ in his mind. He hates Dee; he’s glad Dee is dead; he’s sad that Dee is dead; he doesn’t miss Dee at all; he misses him so much it hurts; he -

“It is okay,” Logan says. 

“It’s not -” 

“No, Roman. What I mean is - it is okay that you have complicated feelings about what happened to you. And it is okay if it takes you a while to sort those feelings out, and it is okay if you never fully get closure. I just - I want you to know that we will be here for you to help you, in whatever way you need.” 

Roman smiles, squeezing Logan’s hand. “Thanks, Lo-berry.” 

Logan turns pink. “Of course.” 

“Can I ask something of you?” 

“Anything.”

“Can - can we just cuddle? Please?” 

“Of course, Roman.”


	3. there beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “there beyond the palisade / i saw the morning lead a cavalcade / they made a marvel of the display and it made me cry” - there beneath, the oh hellos

“What is this?” Roman asks, curled up in Dee’s lap. Dee’s fingers dig into his hips, possessive and fierce, as the court processes in front of them. 

“The Wild Hunt was this night,” Dee says. “They have caught something worth celebrating, it seems.” 

Roman hums appreciatively, leaning up to nip at Dee’s jaw. Dee doesn’t respond positively, but he doesn’t respond negatively, either, which means that he will permit what Roman is doing. “What have they caught, my Prince?” 

“Some stupid humans, most likely,” Dee says dismissively. “That, or some Seelie foolish enough to trespass where they are not wanted.” A shiver runs down Roman’s spine. “Are you afraid, my Knight?” 

“Never,” Roman says. Dee digs his fingers into Roman’s thigh, and he knows there will be a bruise there in the morning. 

“You know better than to lie to me,” Dee hisses. Roman shivers and nods. Dee narrows his eyes, but whatever he was going to say is lost when a horn sounds. Roman looks up to see the Wild Hunt dancing gleeful rings around a small group of terrified figures - two humans and a young Spring. 

“What’s wrong?” Dee asks, voice sickly-sweet and saccharine. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re crying.” Roman lifts a hand from Dee’s chest to touch his cheeks and is surprised when they come away wet. 

“I . . . I am?” 

“Do not cry,” Dee says. “This is nothing to weep about. It is beautiful. It is the way of things. The strong do what they will, and the weak suffer what they must. You do not need to weep, Roman, for you are in the possession of the strong. You are my toy, and no one but me can lay a finger on you.” 

Roman smiles. These tears are a product of Day-Roman’s weakness; he is stronger than that. This is why Dee chose him, after all. 

Still, he buries his face in Dee’s chest until the Wild Hunt is done with their games. 


	4. in the blue hours of morning

Roman jerks awake with a gasp, chest heaving, soaked in sweat. In bed beside him, Patton breathes, slow and even, with Logan curled up behind him. One of Logan’s arms is draped over Patton’s waist, his face pressed into the back of Patton’s neck. Roman smiles at the sight before sliding out of bed. 

He knows better than the wander around the fairy hill unaccompanied, so instead he crosses the room to the large bay windows that overlook the rest of the fairy hill. The sun has not yet risen, and the outside world is tinged grey-blue. Roman stares out at the not-yet-light forest and breathes. 

Footsteps sound behind him, deliberate and loud, and then Virgil appears on his left. “Good morning, Roman,” he rumbles. 

“I don’t think this counts as morning,” Roman jokes. Virgil hums. “Did you even sleep last night, I Spy-der?” Virgil doesn’t answer him. “Oh, _Virge_ -”

“You are hardly one to talk,” Virgil says. “I know for a fact that you did not fall asleep until three hours ago. Humans need to sleep, Roman.” 

“And fairies don’t?” Roman counters. Virgil sighs at him, exasperated but fond. 

“No, Roman, we do not. We need far less sleep than a human. Not to mention, I was just asleep for about a hundred years, give or take. I’m perfectly okay to miss sleep for a night.” 

“But it’s not just one night, is it?” 

“It’s not just one night for you, either.” Roman stares out the window, lost for words. Virgil exhales and gently touches Roman’s shoulder. “I know that it’s hard, Roman. I’m not . . . I’m not _judging_ you. I’m just worried, because I lo - I care about you.” 

“I care about you, too,” Roman says. “I just . . . I keep dreaming about him.” 

“Nightmares?” 

“Sometimes. But sometimes . . . God, sometimes I _miss_ him, I miss him so hard I wake up in overwhelming pain from the ache of it.” Virgil squeezes his shoulder gently. “That’s shitty of me, isn’t it?” 

“He was my brother, too,” Virgil says quietly. “Before all of this happened, before . . . before he did what he did, I . . . I loved him. It was nothing like what you had with him, but - I - what I mean is - you aren’t the only one who’s mourning the loss of a relationship, even though that relationship wasn’t healthy or good and hadn’t been for years.” 

Roman leans his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil wraps an arm around his waist. “Thank you,” Roman whispers. He feels tired again.

“Of course,” Virgil says. “Would you like to go back to bed?”

“Not - not without you . . .”

“Are you asking me to come and cuddle you?” Virgil teases. 

“Viiiirge . . .”

“Of course, Roman.” Roman feels a kiss to the side of his temple, feels arms pick him up, but he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.


	5. exeunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “no i cannot trust what you say when you’re grieving / so my love, i’m sorry, but still i am leaving / even when you hunt me with ire relentless / batter down my door when you find me defenseless” - exeunt, the oh hellos

Roman knows he’s dreaming. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he is. The forest gleams with a light that is far from natural as he turns around, looking for a familiar face or landmark or _something_ , but he finds nothing at all. 

“Hello, darling.” 

Roman stiffens, turning around, barely managing to keep his placid, practiced smile off his face. Dee stands there, looking unnaturally healthy, eyes shining as he steps forward. “Oh, I’ve missed this.” Tears roll down his face, and he brings a hand up to cup Roman’s cheek. “You’ve been so strong without me, darling, but you needn’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” 

Roman hadn’t even known that Dee could cry. He’s not sure he believes the Dee in front of him now. 

“Come home, Roman,” Dee says. “My brave knight, you’ve resisted for so long. No longer. I’m here. I’m here for you.” 

Roman flinches and takes a step back. “Wh - n - no, I -” His voice is dry and sticks in his throat. Dee just tilts his head, confused. 

“Roman, darling -”

“Don’t - don’t _call_ me that! I’m not your anything!”

“I’m weeping for love of you, Roman. Please, please come home.” Dee is begging him, holding his hands out, arms open, pleading. He looks like he’s three steps away from dropping to his knees and all but begging. 

“No! You never cried a tear for me when you were alive! I can see through you, you slippery snake, and your crocodile tears don’t mean _shit_ to me!” 

“You can’t leave me, Roman, I need you!” 

“You don’t control me anymore! I have love now, _real_ love! I don’t need to miss the fake shit that we had!” 

Dee’s face warps, twists, lips stretching up into a broad, feral grin. His jaw unhinges, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth, and a long tongue spills out over his lips. “ _You had better run, little knight_ ,” Dee hisses. “ _If I cannot have you for my own, no one else shall possess you. You are_ **_mine_**!” 

Roman turns on his heel and runs. He can hear Dee behind him, warping and cracking and shifting into a form that truly represents the monster he’d been. Dee roars, snarls, lets loud, angry noises echo through the unending forest, but beneath all that Roman can still hear the soft, pleading voice from earlier. 

“Roman, my knight, my prince, my darling, come home, please! I will chase you forever, I will _love_ you forever, I will cherish you, please -”

“No!” Roman screams, whirling around to face whatever Dee’s become. He can’t focus on the big picture of what Dee looks like, so his eyes keep flittering between little details - his tongue, his teeth, his eyes, his claws. “ _I am not yours, and I never was!_ ” 

“ ** _But you were_** ,” Dee cackles. “ ** _You bore my mark, and you will_ ** **never** **_be free of me_**!” He lunges forward, jaws tearing open - 

Roman jerks awake screaming, tears pouring down his face. Virgil is at his side in an instant, called to Roman’s side by his fear through the charm, reaching out to pull him close. The door opens, spilling hallway light into his bedroom, and Mamaw stands in the doorway. 

“Roman,” she says, voice softer than it’s ever been. “You okay, baby?” Dizzy jumps up onto the bed and curls in his lap, purring. Roman buries his head in Virgil’s shoulder and weeps. 

He doesn’t know anymore.


	6. caesar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “gather the soldiers the heir to enfold / crown him and give him a scepter to hold / sound every horn as the columns extend / up to the hill where the king will ascend” - caesar, the oh hellos

Roman hates the revels. 

He comes because Dee asks it of him, eyes and tone sharp in a way that means he isn’t asking, not really. Day-Roman would probably hate the revels even more, but Night-Roman still hates it, even when he takes grim satisfaction in being Dee’s chosen toy. 

When Remus had appeared, Dee had sent him away. An impossible quest to be fulfilled, something that would keep him away from the court. “He doesn’t matter to me anymore,” Dee had said, pressing a bruising kiss to Roman’s neck. “He’s not good enough. You’re mine.” 

The revels are full of wild fae, spinning in circles so reckless they can barely stay together. Roman tries not to look at the mortals lured into the fairy rings, tries not to see the dazed- glazed-over look in their eyes as they’re spun around and around and around until they can’t ever leave. 

Dee always makes a big deal of his entrances. The other fae line their path into the revels, and Dee preens as they watch him. He leads Roman along at his side, holding his hand tightly. Roman’s never felt more like a dog than when Dee bruises his hand and pulls on his arm like it’s a leash. 

The horns are so loud they’re almost deafening as Dee slowly ascends to the throne he has erected for revels. He settles himself on the throne, and Roman knows his place. He gets down on one knee, kisses the hand that Dee extends to him, and lets Dee pull him into his lap. Dee arranges Roman where he wants him and Roman goes, limp and compliant. 

He never takes any food from revels, not unless Dee gives it to him. His head goes pleasantly foggy, and he stops caring about what happens. He hates not being aware of what’s going on around him, but once he realizes what’s going on it’s much easier to let it all drift away from him. 

It’s not like there’s anything he can do. 


	7. this will end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “cause i can see how this will end / in all its bitter tragedy / i’ll give you all i have to spend / and you’ll give nothing back to me” - this will end, the oh hellos

“It wasn’t healthy, was it?” 

Patton hums, turning his head. He and Roman are lying on their backs in one of Virgil’s webs, strung up in Roman’s backyard, watching the clouds go by while Virgil and Logan alternate between helping and sniping at Mamaw in the kitchen. “What wasn’t healthy, sugar?” 

“What . . . what I had with Dee.” Patton’s smile freezes in place at the mention of the Serpent King, and Roman exhales. “It wasn’t healthy, was it, Pat.” 

It’s not a question anymore.

“No, honey,” Patton says softly. “I don’t suppose it was.” 

“I wanted it to be, you know. I . . . I know that sounds stupid, but I -”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid. However you feel, for however long you feel that way, is okay. It’s okay to think about how you felt back then. And - and I won’t force you, but . . . but it’s okay to _talk_ about it, too. And it’s okay to not be okay with it.” 

Roman sighs. “I loved him, Patton. Or - or at least I thought I did. I thought he loved me too, but . . . but I think even then I knew that there was only one way our relationship would end. He was cruel, unnecessarily so, and he . . . he _hurt_ me, Patton.” 

“He never should have done that to you. No one should hurt you, especially not someone who claims to love you.” 

“It was only ever going to end in tragedy. I knew that. I . . . there were always aspects of our relationship that hurt me. I always felt like I was giving him more love and effort in that relationship than he ever gave to me. But I just thought that if I tried hard enough, if I gave more, if I did _better_ somehow, he would finally love me back.” 

“I don’t think that was ever truly on the table, sweetheart.” 

Roman blinks, and the sky blurs. “I . . . I know, Patty. I know it wasn’t. But - but I - I _wanted_ it to be, and I - I’m so embarrassed - I’m so _embarrassed_ , Pat, and I’m - I’m still _heartbroken_ over that asshole!” 

Patton sits up, and Roman quickly follows, confused, only for Patton to pull him into a tight hug. “Now, I might be imaginin’ it,” Patton says, voice thick and wobbly, “but it sure as sugar sounded like you were gonna _apologize_ for your feelings, Roman Joshua Gage, and you of all people should know that I ain’t gonna tolerate that in my good Christian spiderweb hammock!” 

“There’s nothing Christian about this. We’re a witch, a fae-touched mortal, a faerie prince, and a changeling in a polyamorous relationship.” Patton laughs, and something wet lands in Roman’s hair. 

“I know, but I still care about you. Y’know that, right?” 

“I know, Pat. You care with every bone in your body.”

“We love you, Roman. _I_ love you. I know you have demons in your past. I have ‘em too. So does Lo and so does Vee. But we’re going to face them together, and we’ll get through them together. We have to. You know how much we love you, right sweetheart?”

“I know you love me. I just . . .” Roman’s voice is small. “I just don’t know if I _deserve_ it.” 

“It’s not about deserving.” Patton is soft and reassuring as he strokes his hair. “You don’t have to deserve love, sweetheart. We love you for who you are, not because you deserve it. I know it’s hard, and I know you don’t believe you’re worthy of our love, but do you at least believe that _we_ believe you’re worthy?” 

“I . . . yeah, Patty. I do.” 

Patton kisses his head firmly, hugging Roman so tightly it feels like he’s trying to squeeze the sorrow out of him.


	8. pale white horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “flee the fire that devours / but the sight held me fixed / like a bayonet against my throat . . . his translucent skin made me shiver deep within my bones” - pale white horse, the oh hellos

Roman knows that he should be running right now. 

He can hear Logan and Virgil already disappearing into the woods. Although he doesn’t turn to look, he can picture them in his mind - Virgil dissolving into shadow as Logan dissolves into sunlight, both of them twinkling out of existence in such a manner that they couldn’t possibly be anything other than fae. Patton is tugging on his hand. “Ro, come on, honey, we have to go, we have to _go_ -”

Roman knows it’s a dream, though. He knows because Logan cannot actually dissolve into sunbeams like Virgil does to shadow. He knows because Logan and Virgil would _never_ abandon him and Patton like that. He knows because Patton’s voice doesn’t have the airy musical quality of someone blessed by the Fair Folk. 

“Go, Patton,” Roman says. That’s how he knows it’s a dream, too, because Patton does. He flees without a second thought, and when Roman risks a glance back he can’t catch a glimpse of Patton anywhere. 

“Such wonderful loves you’ve abandoned me for.” Dee’s voice rings through the woods, sultry and rich and tantalizing, like too much wine, like fine dark chocolate, like something that won’t hurt you even though Roman knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it absolutely will. “They can’t even be bothered to stick around, can they? I would never abandon you, Roman dearest. It is you who abandoned me.” 

“What we had,” Roman says, remembering the cartoon he’d watched at Emile’s one day as he shuddered through a panic attack, “wasn’t healthy. It was bad. You were horrible to me, and I was horrible to everyone else. It wasn’t good for us.” 

Hoofbeats, slow and sure, echo around him, but Roman doesn’t turn to see what direction they might be coming from. He just stares forward, fists curled, waiting. 

“Do your new playthings know all the horrible things that you’ve done?” The hoofbeats grow louder. “Do they know what you did? Do they know of your betrayal, Roman? Do they know that my fate awaits them?” 

“It doesn’t, because they are not like you.” 

“No, I don’t suppose they are,” Dee scoffs. 

“They’re better than you ever were.” 

Between one blink and the next, Dee appears in front of Roman. He sits astride a white horse, but as Roman looks closer the horse flickers. It’s no horse at all, but a horse skeleton, loosely held together with glowing white mist. He doesn’t want to look at Dee, but he knows that he must, so he does. 

Dee’s face is gaunt and pale. Between one breath and the next, his skin becomes see-through enough for Roman to see the way his bones rattle angrily. “Do they know, Roman?” Dee says. He never actually moves his mouth; he just stares at Roman with empty, judging eye sockets. 

“They know who I am,” Roman says. “They know more about me than you ever did, and they love me anyway. You only ever loved me when I conformed to your idea of me. They love me no matter who I decide to be. That’s how I know that they _really_ love me. You just possessed me.” 

Dee snarls, lips curling back to reveal skeletal teeth. The horse rears up, teeth far sharper than any real horse, and brings its hooves down towards Roman’s head. Roman does not flinch. 

“You can’t hurt me,” he says. The horse knocks him to the ground, and then - 

“Roman?” Logan’s voice is groggy and half-awake as Roman jerks back to the real world. “Are you alright?” 

Roman lets out a slow, shaky break. “I will be.”


	9. where is your rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “were you there to bedevil and beguile / see your face wasn’t quite as i remember but / i know / that wicked shape to your smile” - where is your rider, the oh hellos

Virgil and Dee don’t look that dissimilar, Roman thinks. 

They’re nothing like each other in personality, or voice, or posture, of course. Roman knows this, knows that Virgil truly loves him and Dee never had the same way he knows that the sun comes out during the day and his hair is red and his name is Roman Joshua Gage and he has never, not once, been burned by a lick of fire. Still, he can’t stop himself from staring. 

Their faces have similar shapes, he thinks. They both have high cheekbones, long noses, eyes with a gleam of _feraldangerousnot-for-you-mortal_. Their chins are nearly identical, their foreheads have the same slope. Dee had only let his hair get long once, but when it was long it looked like Virgil’s. 

“What are you thinking about?” Virgil asks, jolting Roman out of his reverie. They sit together at the summer revel; Patton and Logan have disappeared into the crowd to get drinks. (Really, _Patton_ had gone to get drinks and _Logan_ had come with him with the given answer of “to help him carry cups” and the _actual_ answer of “protect him from wayward fae”). 

Roman apparently didn’t put his brain-to-mouth filter on today, because what comes out is, “You and your brother kinda look the same.” 

Virgil’s face darkens and shutters instantly, and Roman flails his hands around as he tries to explain. “No - it - I just - obviously you’re _nothing_ alike, but - I just mean I can tell you’re siblings is all! I - oh, _Hestia_ , your bones look similar, okay? I -”

“Roman -”

“I know you hate him for what he did to you, _I_ hate him for what he did to you, not to mention what he did to Mrs. Fischer and me and the whole _town_ -”

“Roman.” 

“It was stupid of me to say, I’m sorry, don’t be mad Virge I’m sorry I’m _sorry_ -”

“Roman!” 

He freezes, and Virgil gently takes his hands. “I’m not mad.” His voice is low and gruff. “What you said startled me, and - and I can’t say it didn’t upset me a little, but I am not _angry_ at you.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Could I have said it if it was not true?” 

“N . . . no . . .”

“I’m not surprised that you did that.” Virgil tucks Roman’s hair behind his ear. “He . . . he and I, we . . . when Mother made him, it was for me. He was my brother. Of course we look similar. And you would be the person to pick up on it. I don’t think anyone else ever spent enough time with both of us to know. I just . . . wasn’t expecting you to say it then.” 

“You’re better than him,” Roman says firmly. “I mean it, Virge, you’re better for me and you’re better for the fae and you’re better for Wickhills and you’re _certainly_ better-looking -”

Virgil snorts, and Roman takes the opportunity to plant himself firmly in Virgil’s lap. “It’s probably going to take a while,” he says quietly. “Before I can fully untangle the mess in my head and shoo him out, y’know?” 

“It’s okay if you never do.”

“What?” 

“It’s okay if you always have memories of him. Your feelings are valid, Ro, I’m not going to tell you that they’re not. I just . . . want you to know that I won’t ever stop loving you, even if my stupid brother still haunts you. Okay?” 

Roman nods, eyes wide and wet, and leans up to kiss him. 

“Okay.”


	10. soldier, poet, king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “there will come a poet / whose weapon is his word / he will slay you with his tongue / oh lay, oh lai, oh lord” - soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos

Patton strums the ukelele in his hands, and Roman begins to bob his head to the tune. It’s a familiar one, a song Patton’s loved more and more in recent months. Logan lifts his head, watching as Patton plays, and clears his throat. 

“Could - could I trouble you to start from the beginning, Patton?” 

Patton stops playing and looks up at him with honey-bright eyes. “Sure, Lo! Lemme just remember how the intro goes - ah - here!” He starts over, and Logan quietly clears his throat again. 

“The lyrics to this song go as follows.” 

He stands up, in the center of the clearing they’re all clustered in, and begins to sing. Virgil tilts his head as Logan’s voice echoes through the woods. “ _There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword . . ._ ” Virgil stands, pulling Roman to his feet. 

“What are you -”

“My soldier,” Virgil hums, twirling Roman around. Roman giggles as Virgil pulls him close and spins him out and pulls him in again. Logan’s voice gets stronger, clear as crystal, and Patton picks up as the second verse starts and Virgil switches partners. 

“ _There will come a poet whose weapon is his word_ . . .” Patton laughs, barely able to keep playing as Virgil hums and wraps himself around his shoulders, swaying with him. Logan is rapidly beginning to glow, sunbeams shining off his hair as he begins to flap with one hand while pulling his collar with the other. 

Roman grins, joining in song with Patton as they reach the third verse and Logan’s voice abruptly dies out when Virgil takes his hand. “ _There will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn_ . . .”

Logan turns pink as green stems begins twining through his hair. Before they’ve even reached the chorus, there is a crown of flowers in Logan’s hair. Virgil whirls him around in increasingly wild circles, and Roman catches a glimpse of Logan stimming with his free hand and laughing joyously as he dances with Virgil. 

By the time the song ends, they’ve collapsed into a dizzy, breathless heap, Logan still freely stimming with both hands. “Not quite a brow laid in thorn, is it?” Virgil hums, gently plucking one of the flowers. 

“So I take it Logan’s the king and Patton’s the poet to my soldier?” Roman asks. Virgil smiles, almost unbearably fond, and reaches for Roman and Patton. 

“You’re all kings to me.” Logan glows even more brightly, and Roman and Patton quickly join them in the cuddle pile. 

“You can’t just _say_ things like that, sugar, we’re gonna combust from joy!” 

Roman leans in and kisses Virgil, feeling one of Logan’s hands brush repeatedly against his shoulder due to his proximity to his stimming and one of Patton’s arms drape across his waist, and he relaxes into their warmth. 

(Later, he will realize with a jolt that he hadn’t thought about Dee once the whole day. He’ll realize that it was the first time he had gotten through a day in that manner since he first met Dee. He will almost have a panic attack as thoughts of Dee flood him, and May will talk him through it, hugging him gently.

For now, though, he is at peace.)


	11. dear wormwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “but now i understand you / and i will not be part of your designs / i know who i am now / and all that you’ve made of me / i know who you are now / i name you my enemy” - dear wormwood, the oh hellos

“Fuck him.” 

Virgil glances at Roman in surprise, followed quickly by Patton and Logan. 

“Ro, I . . .”

“What?” Roman looks up at them from where he’s sprawled on the floor, dragging a marker across one of the coloring sheets Patton always seems to have scattered around his room. Patton himself is at his desk with Logan, and Virgil is playing a string game on the bed. Or, well, he was. Now they’re all just kind of staring at Roman. 

“Seriously, do I have marker on my face?” 

“It is the first time you have expressed such sentiments regarding Dee to us,” Logan says. “We know that you have a complicated past with him, and we will not pressure you to conform to our views of him just because -”

“It has nothing to do with that, Specs, although I appreciate your consideration. It’s just . . .” Roman sighs. “It’s like, I didn’t understand why he would be so cruel to me, you know? I loved him, and he loved me, right? But I know now that whatever we had, it wasn’t love. I mean, it was on my part, but not his. I was just a chess piece in his machinations.”

“That was a large word for you, Roman.” 

“I know big words, elder-Flowering Heart.” Logan sputters in protest even as he begins to glow, 

“The point is, I know who Dee is now. He was someone who abused me for his own pleasure, and he’s not someone I ever should have loved. Like, did I? Yeah. Did it hurt me every second of every day to love him? Also yeah! I deserve better than that  _ snake _ for lovers. He’s an enemy, and I shouldn’t give him a second thought.” 

Logan smiles at him. “I am proud of you, Roman. Those are big steps to take in acknowledging and dealing with your trauma.” 

“Yeah, well, I should have taken them a long time ago.” 

“I hope you’re not talking bad about yourself, mister?” Patton says. Roman smiles up at him. 

“I’m not, Pat. I’m just . . . I’m glad that I’m here, and now that I’m here it all seems so easy, y’know? It’s hard to believe that I could ever  _ not _ be here. I know I’m gonna have to work on this all my life, but I’m . . . I’m in a better place now. Y’know?” 

“I do know,” Patton says. 

“And you’ve done so much work,” Virgil adds. “You’re growing so much, Roman, you change every day. We’re so proud of you.” 

“We love you,” Logan says. “Even if you have bad days. We are not fair weather friends - er, fair weather boyfriends, I mean.” 

“I don’t know, Specs, you are literally giving off sunshine right now.” Logan makes a flustered noise and hides his face in Patton's shoulder. Roman just laughs. 

He wouldn’t trade this for anything. 


	12. danse macabre

The first time Roman asks Dee to dance at the revel, he just scoffs and shakes his head. 

“I am above such frivolity,” he says, digging his fingers into Roman’s hips with such strength that Roman swears he feels a bone crack. “Dancing is beneath me, and it is beneath my champion. You will not partake in any such dances with me or anyone else.” 

Roman just sighs, reaching up to kiss his neck. Dee grips his face, pulling him in for a fierce and bruising kiss. Roman tastes blood when Dee bites his lower lip, but he doesn’t pull away from the kiss. Dee wouldn’t let him even if he tried, he knows that well. 

The second time Roman asks Dee to dance at the revel, he’s a little bit tipsy on fairy wine. “Dance - dance with me, Dee,” he slurs, reaching up to pull at Dee’s collar. “Dance, c’mon, dance with me, please, dance with me, _Dee_ -”

Dee grips his arm and drags him out of the limelight, into the shadows, and pins him against a tree. “Weird dance, Dee,” Roman giggles. Dee’s eyes are hard, and he reaches out to press a hand against Roman’s throat. 

“I told you,” he snarls. “Do not ask me to dance. If I see you dancing with anyone at this revel, I will kill you, deal be damned.” 

Roman does not ask him again. 

“You do not ask me to dance anymore, my pet,” Dee purrs. “Why would that be?” 

“You told me you would not dance with me.”

“I never said that.” Roman frowns, touching his throat, but Dee stands suddenly, pulling Roman to his feet. “Come along, Roman. If you want to dance, I will dance with you.” 

Roman barely remembers the dance. Dee whirls him around with such force that he gets dizzy, and his memory is blurry and hazy. All he can remember is Dee, surrounding him and pushing him and pulling him and it’s painful, but Dee is laughing, and if it makes him happy, Roman will just have to endure it, right? 

(The first time he dances with Virgil, he nearly cries, because it feels _so different_ to anything he’d ever done with Dee. Virgil is still surrounding him, but it’s not angry or harsh. It’s just love, pure and simple and unadulterated, and Virgil stops the second Roman hints that he might be uncomfortable. 

Roman loves him so, so much.) 


	13. thus always to tyrants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “where i go, will you still follow? / will you leave your shaded hollow? / will you greet the daylight looming / learn to love without consuming?” - thus always to tyrants, the oh hellos

“Welcome back.” 

Dee lounges against the trunk of a gnarled tree, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I won’t be back again. Not after this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I know what this is. This - this dream-space. It’s my subconscious trying to come to terms with the fact that I was in an abusive relationship that I thought was good. You’re here because I miss you.” 

“Of course you do.” Dee hops off his tree, and Roman stands his ground. “You love me.” 

“No, Dee. I _loved_ you.” The forest shakes, and Dee looks around, confused. 

“You’re here because you love me. You’ll come back to me, I know you will. You’re going to keep coming here to see me, because you love me, you _love_ me -”

“No,” Roman says firmly. “I loved you once, Dee. I don’t love you anymore. You never loved me.” 

“That’s not tr -” Dee chokes on his lies, and Roman exhales. 

“What we had wasn’t healthy,” he repeats. “I can’t say that I’ll never come back here. I can’t say that I’ll never think of you. You were part of my life for so long.” Dee’s eyes widen, but Roman cuts him off. “Don’t get your hopes up. You’re not part of my life anymore.” 

“But you’re still here!” 

“I’m not coming back if I can help it. I’m married now. I have three husbands and a daughter, and I -” Roman rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m _happy_. I’m happier than I ever was with you, and I’m not going to let memories of you take that away from me. They’re more than my loves, they’re my _best friends_ and - and they’re MUCH better than you ever were.” 

Roman turns around, looking away from Dee. “I know what love is now, Dee. It’s - it’s nothing like what we had. I don’t know what it _was_ that we had, but I know it was bad.” 

Dee keeps talking, rambling, but Roman lifts his head and walks out of the dream clearing. 

“Papa?” 

Roman opens his eyes to see Linda curled up on his chest, kneading his shirt with her little hands. “Um, are - are you okay, Papa? You were mutterin’ in yer sleep.” 

Roman lifts his hand, gently stroking her curly hair. 

“Yeah, Linny. I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr! // [@teacupfulofstarshine](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


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